Fast Food
by Serena Kenobi
Summary: Diana tries out different fast food places and finds an unexpected visitor in the process. BMWW oneshot. Fluff.


**Fast Food**

By **Serena**

A/N: Another BMWW oneshot. I wouldn't write any other pairing.

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue.

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It wasn't every day that Wonder Woman ate lunch at Wendy's and dinner at Burger King. Well, how was I supposed to know what was considered good and bad food in Man's world? I figured that since their advertisements were on TV all the time, they must be good places to eat. I liked Wendy's, but Burger King left something wanting.

I decided that I liked going out to eat, and since I had acquired some money from various donors and sponsors, or sometimes well-wishers or people who wanted to marry me, I had enough money to continue going out for some time.

The next night, I tried Friendly's. Dressed in a plain black t-shirt, jeans, and flats (Kara and Shayera had helped with my wardrobe), I entered the restaurant and proceeded to the end of the line.

When I heard a gasp, I looked around and saw everyone staring at me. I frowned. I didn't like the attention, especially not when I just wanted a night out by myself.

"Wonder Woman?" A teenage boy in front of me squeaked. "Do you want to cut?" He motioned in front of him.

I shook my head. "No. I just want the same treatment as everyone else. Thank you for the offer, though."

His mouth fell open, and I think I saw some drool running down his mouth. I resisted rolling my eyes and continued to wait in line. After everyone in front of me had been seated, the lady at the front desk smiled shyly at me. "Wonder Woman? Where would you like to sit?"

I sighed. "I'm sorry for the disturbance I'm causing," I apologized. "Just a quiet back corner table will be fine. And call me Ana, please." I'd shortened my name from Diana as a sort of alias sometimes.

"O-okay," she stammered as she led me to a small back table. "Someone will be _right _with you."

"Take your time," I smiled politely. "I'm just another customer."

But by the time I had ordered and gotten my meal, people were lining out the door just to watch me eat, and I caught a glimpse of the media barging their way in. Angered, I picked up the plastic basket containing my chicken pieces and fries and the plastic cup of milk, threw down a twenty, and soared out of the building. But now I had to find a place to eat my food in peace. But where? If I went back to the Watchtower, I'd show up with "fast food" in my hands and never hear the end of it. Since I was in Gotham City, I decided to go to a rooftop of one of the skyscrapers and eat the food there.

I picked a particularly tall building and alighted on the roof. Swinging my legs over the cement railing, I placed my food next to me on the wall and began to eat, staring down at the city. I was so immersed in my thoughts that I didn't realize my food basket was gone until I mindlessly reached for another fry, only to find that I was touching cement. I frowned and glanced down, but the basket was gone.

"Fast food, Princess?" Came a gruff voice behind me.

My head whirled around to see Batman standing some feet away. He held my food in a hand and, as usual, wore a stoic expression on his half-covered face.

"Yes," I said simply. "May I have it back?" I reached out a hand.

He didn't move.

I glared at him. "What do you want, Bruce?" I questioned tiredly.

He was silent for a moment, but then he said, "Come with me."

"Come with you? Why? Where?" Was there some hidden meaning to his words, or was I being foolish by jumping to conclusions about us? I hopped off the railing and faced him.

He looked down at the food and suddenly dropped it on the ground. I stared at it in horror, wondering what would've possessed him to do such a thing, until he reached me in two long strides, pulled me up against his chest, and smothered my mouth with his. I gasped into his mouth as he caressed my lips with his in a more passionate yet gentle and tender way than I could've ever imagined with Batman. The food lay forgotten on the ground as I wound my arms around his neck. After what seemed to be ages, he reluctantly pulled away, and we stood close together, our chests heaving as we tried to catch our breaths.

"Come with me," he repeated huskily. "Come home. I'll have Alfred make you something _decent_ to eat."

"You're not cooking?" I teased.

"The culinary arts are something more of Alfred's specialty," he said.

"And what's yours, Mr. Wayne?" I grinned.

He smiled. "This," he said softly, and kissed me again.

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Oneshots. Love 'em or hate 'em. Feedback's appreciated.

- **Serena**


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